


Innocent Bystander

by Vathara



Series: Urban Legends [6]
Category: Godzilla: The Series, Stargate SG-1
Genre: Crossovers & Fandom Fusions, Gen, Random Encounters
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-13
Updated: 2018-07-13
Packaged: 2019-06-09 21:46:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 4,003
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15276849
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Vathara/pseuds/Vathara
Summary: Dr. Daniel Jackson wanders off the beaten path  and into one of H.E.A.T.'s typical days.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This story comes before the "Urban Legends", a missing scene to "Wedding Bells Blew". Stargate belongs to Showtime, MGM, Gekko, and Double Secret; Godzilla: The Series belongs to Toho and Tristar.

_Next time, I'm taking the zat,_ Dr. Daniel Jackson promised himself, ducking behind an old oak as a frozen missile thudded to the ground. He'd come out to Long Island to check on a possible Goa'uld artifact that had turned up in a rich eccentric's collection, under his credentials as an archaeologist. The so-called artifact had been nothing more than an ancient fake of an Eighteenth Dynasty pectoral, the eccentric was just a lonely old woman with a cat fetish, and he'd been on his way back to New York in less than three hours.

But the map had inexplicably tangled itself as he drove, and he'd wound up caught in the middle of a few late arrivals to the "Chapman wedding" - whoever they were. Seemed like nice enough people, willing to let a shabby professorial type grab a few bites off the caterer's table and quench his thirst with a cup of fruit punch while he tried to untangle the Gordian knot of his roadmap. Daniel had finally determined he'd have to apply the Alexandrian solution, but it would have been rude to ask one of the guests for a knife while the happy couple were in the middle of their "I dos".

And then... he'd heard gunfire.

Faint. High up. But definitely gunfire.

"The perfect capper to a perfect day," the maid of honor muttered. Purple rayon rustled as she faced the crowd. "All right! Everybody, stay calm, move _under_ the catering tent!"

Missiles started falling out of the sky.

_"Move it!"_

And things had gone downhill from there.

Daniel peeked out from behind his tree. The Chapman party was gone, loaded onto a small ship by the redhead in the awful dress and the determined young man who'd called off the air strike. Thunder crackled in the dark sky, waterspouts clearly visible over the Atlantic. Chunks of ice - _ice?_ \- bobbed in the waves, the bridge back to New York was a flattened mess, and there were enough Navy ships out there to restart the invasion of Normandy.

And one multi-story lizard roared challenge to lightning-split skies.

Daniel blinked. Looked at the cup of punch still in his hand.

Poured it out.

 _What on earth was all_ that _about?_

 


	2. Cuffed

Daniel rattled his handcuffs, glancing at the stiff-jawed, green-uniformed men around him. "Don't I at least get a phone call?"

No reply. One soldier fingered the grip of his pistol.

 _Terrific._ The archaeologist leaned back in his folding metal chair with a sigh, letting gravity push his glasses back up. He tilted his head to sweep stray gold hairs out of his eyes, trying not to look at the unobtrusive leather wallet of lockpicks left invitingly on the table. Along with the rest of his effects; change, one pocketknife, a knotted map of New York, and various and sundry other items a certain Air Force Colonel with an IV in his arm had insisted he take with him. Everything except his Cheyenne Mountain pass.

That was currently in the hands of some very disgruntled Army personnel, who apparently were even less happy than usual to find a civilian near their downed ordinance. Even if said civilian worked for the same military and had a higher clearance than most of the people in the Pentagon.

Or maybe especially if.

_I should've brought the zat._

Major Hicks strode into the tent, dark brows pinched together in annoyance. "Dr. Daniel Jackson."

"Yes." Daniel drew in a breath. "Major, if you'd just contact General George Hammond-"

"Legally, you're dead."

Oh, yeah. Declared so at least twice now. The actual count was too depressing to think about. "Not as far as the IRS is concerned." _Way,_ way _too much time around Jack,_ Daniel thought, seeing dark eyes squinch in a scowl.

"What's an archaeologist doing in the Air Force?"

"I'm not in the Air Force," Daniel said carefully. He might wear the uniform, he might all but live on-base some weeks, and he could probably out-shoot half the people in this tent, but he was not military. "I'm a linguist. A civilian consultant. I got lost, I stopped to figure out where I was, and then the ordinance started falling." Oops; should've said missiles. Ordinary people would say missiles. _Distract him._ "What _happened_ out there?"

Hicks snorted. "Godzilla happened, what else?" Papers rustled in his hand. "Now-"

"Godzilla?" The name sounded vaguely familiar.

The major skewed a suspicious glance his way. "Two-hundred-foot-plus lizard? Breathes radioactive fire? Follows H.E.A.T. around like an overgrown puppy?" Green-clad arms crossed. "Stop me when I'm getting warm, here."

"H.E.A.T.?"

"Tatopoulos' team. Where the hell have you been?"

 _Off-planet,_ Daniel thought. Even when he was on Earth, the evening news wasn't his speed. Too much violence. "Who's Tatopoulos?"

The tent went dead silent. "You say you work for the Air Force, and you don't know the Worm Guy." Hicks shook his head. "Dr. Niko Tatopoulos? Used to work for the Nuclear Regulatory Commission? The guy that was _supposed_ to be getting everyone on the ground out."

"He didn't know I was there," Daniel defended the man. A glimmer of recognition was sneaking through. Something about New York, the Chrysler Building...

The major snorted. "Whoever you are, you're not going anywhere until-" A harried sergeant pushed through the tent door, saluted. "What?"

The sergeant drew a deep breath. "He's legit, sir. Pentagon just confirmed it."

Hicks blinked. "Run that by me again, soldier?"

The sergeant thrust forward a sheaf of fax paper. "Fingerprints and ID check out, sir. Dr. Daniel Jackson. Linguist, archaeologist, anthropologist. Civilian consultant to-" the soldier's voice dropped. "Project Blue Book."

Hicks' gaze turned positively stormy.

The sergeant swallowed. "They say... he's supposed to be on furlough right now. But he's due back at work in a day, so they'd appreciate it if we expedited the doctor's trip to the nearest airport. Sir."

Hicks skewered the archaeologist with a look. "If you're on furlough, what are you doing in the middle of a mutation clean-up?"

"I _got lost,_ " Daniel repeated, for the dozenth time. "The last time I heard, that was still legal." He rattled the cuffs. "Do you mind?"

Hicks tossed his ID on the table. "Get him out of here."

Rubbing his wrists, Daniel collected his effects. "Major..." He could all but feel the heat of the grudge rising off the man. "Is something - wrong, between you and Dr. Tatopoulos?"

Nostrils flared. _"Excuse me?"_

Seriously wrong, then. Which didn't bode well for anyone, if Tatopoulos was the determined young man who'd taken that flying manta ray down. "You just... look like you needed to talk." _Oops,_ Daniel thought, feeling the temperature in the tent drop ten degrees. _Military, remember? They don't talk, they debrief._

The major eyed him with a gaze that could melt steel. "Stick to chasing little green men, Doctor. It's safer."

 


	3. One Phone Call

Sweating, Daniel Jackson fed quarters into the pay phone, blue eyes glued to the massive brawl outside the concourse windows. Fingers danced unwatched over metal buttons, dialing a number he knew by heart.

A glance of sun off black chitin. A trembling in carpet-covered concrete.

"Pick up, Jack. Pick up..."

* * *

 

Colonel Jack O'Neill gave his opponent a steely gaze, arranged his weapons of choice in his IV-laden hand. Despite the cottony haze of painkillers, those innocent blue eyes didn't fool him. That casual toss of blonde hair was no more than a carefully-calculated battle tactic, strategically chosen to set him off guard. His enemy had a mind like a titanium vise, quick to capitalize on any moment of weakness. "Go fish."

Lips pursed, Major Sam Carter plucked the next card off the deck. Her gaze flicked across the cards in her hand. Face set, she laid down a set of threes.

 _Figures_. "Guess it's up to you now, Teal'c," Jack sighed, watching the casual tilt of Carter's head as she leaned back in her chair. Sam and Teal'c were dead-even, four stacks of cards decking white sheets on either side of the infirmary bed. Propped up against a rocky pillow, Jack had mustered a paltry two. "Hit me."

Dark fingers pulled a card from Teal'c's hand, reinserted it two cards left. "I do not believe Dr. Frasier would approve," the Jaffa said thoughtfully.

"That's not what I... never mind." Hah. There was a glint of humor in that dark gaze.

Teal'c let it linger in plain view a half-second longer, turned to Sam. "Major Carter. Do you have any fives?"

"Darn!" Sam surrendered three cards, leaving a scant pair in her hand. "So what did Daniel run into yesterday? The general was in a huff about government agencies getting his legal status straight."

"Do you have any eights, O'Neill?"

"Go fish. Hammond in a huff?" Jack raised a gray brow.

"Pretty close, sir. Sent Naomi off tracking down agencies for two hours, just to find out who's still flagging Daniel as dead."

"Good grief. Any tens?"

"Go fish, sir. I-"

 _Ring_.

Three hands scrambled for the phone. Janet had said quiet visits only; if she figured out they'd smuggled a line in, Jack could kiss tonight's takeout pizza goodbye. "Carter," Sam stated. "Daniel! Yes, he's - here." She thrust the receiver into Jack's grip.

"Jack!" Relief rang through the archaeologist's voice. "Gods, I'm glad I got to you. You wouldn't believe how much the pay phones here charge; it ate half the change in my pocket before it'd even turn on-"

"Daniel. Breathe." Pay phone? Daniel ought to have a cell phone... unless whoever he'd crossed paths with yesterday had confiscated it. Hammond hadn't told Jack any details - yet. Only that the problem _would be_ handled. "What's going on?" There was a strange thudding noise in the background, coupled with crackling crunches. Something in the airport? Didn't sound like any engine Jack had ever heard.

"Ahh... I think I'm going to be a little late."

"Late?" Daniel's flight last night had been canceled; overbooking on the part of the airline. Go figure. "What is it this time-"

Something roared, loud enough to jerk Sam and Teal'c out of their chairs. A scream of primeval rage, that woke primate instincts 65 million years old. Jack found himself curled in a combat crouch, ignoring the screaming stitches in his side.

"Wow." An awe-struck whisper. "That's... big."

"Daniel!" Jack made himself uncoil, accepting Sam's help to lie back. _Ow_. "What's going on?"

"I think Hicks called it Godzilla."

Jack felt the blood drain out of his face. Now he could hear screams, tearing metal, the incessant blare of car alarms. "Daniel. Get out of there. Now."

"Get out of there _where_ , Jack?" Something _crunched_ , loud and close. "There's some sort of... giant cockroach-things running around out here. Everyone's trying to get into the terminal. They're - oh, gods!"

Chittering, shrill and ominous. A crystal cascade of shattering glass.

"Daniel!" Jack shook the receiver, trying to deny the buzzing of the empty line. "Carter! Trace the call. Find him!" He started to stand; met Teal'c's determined grip, as the room spun around him. "And someone get Janet!"

* * *

 

Pinned under a mound of plasterboard, Daniel sneezed. Regarded the ripped end of the phone cord with a glare. _Terrific_. Janet had insisted Jack needed rest. Not standing, not walking, not running around the countryside after errant archaeologists.

Rest he wasn't going to get, after a call like that-

Gleaming black speared down.

Daniel froze. Held himself still, as serrated chitin probed the rubble. Didn't blink, even when the mutant roach's settling brown wings raised concrete dust that scratched his eyes. Barely breathed, as multi-part mandibles clacked in search of prey. _Don't move don't move don't move-_

Massive jaws tore the beast away, flung it against asphalt.

Splat.

Dripping goo, Daniel spat out a shard of slimy chitin. "Ohh... _yuck_."


	4. From the Rubble

 

"We got a live one, _jefe!_ "

Dazed, Daniel felt rubble shift, shoved aside by implacable force. A scent of salt and fish drifted past. Strong hands seized his. "Stay calm. He won't hurt you."

 _Who won't-_ The archaeologist froze.

An amber eye blinked, long as he was tall. Emerald-tinted gray scales flexed, nostrils sniffing his scent. A creature too massive to be real stared down, eighteen stories of reptilian curiosity.

Daniel swallowed. _Help_.

"Easy." Was that a touch of laughter in the hands' voice? "Just breathe. We've got you."

The archaeologist blinked away powdered concrete, catching sight of serious blue eyes, a thin radio headset nestled in dark hair. Dusty sage denim knelt beside him, a loose red-brown shirt bunched under the deadly rifle slung over one arm.

And even when that massive chin brushed his shoulder, there was no fear in his eyes.

A quiet wuffle. The lizard's jaw leaned ever so lightly against the man's shoulder, enormous pupil fixing on the wreck of steel and glass that had been the upper wall of the concourse. "Yeah," the man breathed. "I see it. Randy?"

"Got it, _jefe_." Dark hands laid aside a plasterboard panel, dreadlocks shaking off dust.

"Some of the ceiling's loose," the blue-eyed man said calmly. Sunset painted concrete gold, glinted off twisted steel like fire. Gleamed off a wall of scales, limning emerald gray in topaz and amber. "It's holding for now, but we need to get you out. Are you hurt?"

"I... think I'm okay," Daniel managed. Outside of the cockroach goo still stinging in his mouth. Outside of the impossible creature standing overhead, knife-ridged tail weaving lazy figure-eights in sunset air.

The creature his rescuers seemed to take in perfect stride. Anthropological training kicked in. _When in doubt, act like the locals_.

Especially when the ceiling creaked ominously over their heads.

Randy helped him to his feet, let him lean on a blue-jacketed shoulder as the smaller man led them out onto claw-gouged tarmac. _Gods, he's short_ , Daniel realized, stumbling as massive footfalls shook the earth. But there was no question who was in charge. The pale young man radiated the same focused intensity as Jack in the middle of a firefight.

"Rinse before you drink," came the calm advice as the leader passed him a bottle of water. The man matched steps to shuddering earth with no more thought than Jack walking under a helicopter's blades. "And try to relax. The mantis roaches aren't toxic."

"Just gnarly," the teen shuddered. A hand wiped at fresh bandages on his left arm. "Ugh!"

Daniel spat out diluted slime, splashed water over his face. Wiped his glasses with the paper towels pressed into his hand. "Thank you. I'm Daniel-" He blinked, glanced back at gigantic talons touching down on their right. Realized what the jagged irregular shape they were skirting had to be. "Is that a footprint?"

"G-man's not usually this hard on asphalt," Randy shrugged. "Guess those roaches already tore up the place, looking for - what'd you call it, _compadre?_ "

"Trace elements. Maybe the salts. More likely the jet fuel, given what we found on the bioassay." The fierce blue gaze swept the area, lighted on a motley group near other dazed airport visitors. Some of the tension went out of slim shoulders. "Have we got everyone?"

An armed redhead in an oversized green sweatshirt gave him a smile; with a shock, Daniel recognized her as yesterday's maid of honor. "Looks like that's the only building damage. Airport security's going in with the EMTs to check."

"Destruction of the nest was successful." Dark eyes raked Daniel; narrowed. A dark-nailed hand rested near her rifle as the French Vietnamese woman weighed his threat potential, then turned back to her leader. "Rescue efforts should be left to experienced personnel."

Daniel blinked, catching the cascade of meanings in that level statement, the touch of gaze on gaze. _I know you had to go,_ said dark eyes; cool and worried as Teal'c's. _But danger is my job._

 _But you weren't there, and we were,_ was her leader's casual shrug. A wry flicker of a smile. _And it's our job too._

A stocky blond in a labcoat grumbled incoherent curses as he pulled bits of yellow metal out of slime and chitin. "Nick, tell me we're going to get another parts shipment?"

"Already on its way," the leader assured him, watching the giant lizard stalk towards the ocean. "Thanks, big guy."

 _So that's Godzilla,_ Daniel thought, still dazed. _Guess Jack's right. I do need to watch more TV._ "Ahh... does anyone have a phone I could borrow? I was in the middle of a call, and my friend's going to be worried..." Panicked, more likely. Jack never would believe he could keep himself in one piece.

And when Jack panicked, things started getting blown to pieces.

Nick dropped a phone into his grip, wandering over to a patch of weedy greenery. Standing still, the man breathed slow and deep, watching one slim leaf as if it were the first new growth in the world.

 _Post-combat nerves,_ the archaeologist recognized, catching that tremor in pale hands. Daniel scanned the airfield with more alert eyes, picking out seared and smashed roaches, crumpled planes, scorch marks as if someone had let loose a giant flamethrower. _Gods... how close was it?_

"Cheyenne Mountain," came Naomi Jarvis' efficient voice over the line.

"Ms. Jarvis, it's Dr. Jackson," the archaeologist identified himself. "Could you put me in touch with General Hammond or Colonel O'Neill? I need to tell Jack I m all right."

The secretary snorted, punching buttons. "Between you, me, and the wallpaper, you need a lot more than that, Dr. Jackson."

Daniel winced. "Is it bad?"

"You tell me," came the wry reply. "Scuttlebutt has it Janet's still putting in the stitches..."

* * *

 

"Hey." Elsie Chapman put a gentle hand on Nick's shoulder. "You okay?"

"Not sure." Nick touched his particle beam rifle, double-checking that the safety was in place. "The fight... when we were in the middle of the mantis roaches..." Images of the panicked, terrifying melee rose up; charging through the nest's defenders to find Randy, setting Monique's charges in a cavern full of hungry larvae, firing back to back at creatures armed, angry, and carnivorous. "It was just a little-" He hesitated. "Intense."

"Usually the mutations aren't interested in eating us," the paleontologist acknowledged. "It's okay, Nick. I think even the French Fry's a little shaky over this one."

"No... it wasn't that." The biologist shook his head. "Or... part of it wasn't."

A red brow arched. "What?"

"I was angry," Nick admitted. "I felt like - like they shouldn't be here. Like they were trespassing." He ran a hand through dark hair, dislodged another fragment of carapace.

"Nick, they tried to eat your research assistant." Elsie nudged him in the ribs. "If that's not your territory, what is?"

"No, it wasn't- oh." His voice dropped to a whisper. "Oh, look."

Elsie tensed. "What?"

"Shhh." Two glossy black beetles, each over an inch long, were digging themselves out of the dirt. Orange marks gleamed on black carapaces as they clawed their way free; black wings buzzed like a bee, preparing for flight.

Footfalls behind them, as a dozen more beetles broke the surface. _"Jefe?"_

Nick raised a warning hand. "Easy, people. We've got an endangered species here."

"We do?" Daniel's voice; dazed, but with the first stirrings of curiosity. "What are they?"

" _Nicrophorus americanus,_ I think," Nick said softly. "The American Burying Beetle."

Elsie brightened. "The Red Book silphid?"

"The one and only." Nick watched dark mandibles clean orange-knobbed antennae. "Last reintroduction I knew of was in Massachusetts."

She shrugged. "Maybe a grad student thought they'd make it here."

Mendel got down to watch. "What's so special about a bug?"

Nick pointed at disturbed dirt. "If you dug right down there, you'd find a skeleton. Bird, possibly small mammal." He watched the first pair take off. "Those were probably the parents. Somewhere around two months ago they found the carcass, buried it, and started raising their larvae."

"Ahhh..." Randy paled.

"It's already dead when they find it," Nick reassured him. "They're scavengers, not predators."

Monique studied the Halloween-colored insects in the fading light. "Beetles do not raise larvae."

"You've got to love biology," Elsie chuckled. "There's an exception to everything."

"Like wolf pups, on a small scale." Nick watched wings take the wind. "The parents feed them, protect them, take care of them." A wry smile touched his lips. "You wish some people would handle things that well."

"Vertebrate behavior's a little more complicated, Nicky."

"You really care that they make it." Daniel's tone was thoughtful.

"They've been around millions of years. They're part of the ecosystem. You don't let someone die just because the building's burning down." The biologist stared at the first pinpricks of stars. "Did you get in touch with your friend?"

"Ah... yeah. Thanks." The tall blond fumbled with black plastic, moved to hand it over-

Monique intercepted the phone.

Frowning, the biologist rose to his feet. Ordinarily their resident spy wanted them to take the phones everywhere. H.E.A.T. had a knack for ending up in dangerous situations at a moment's notice; communications had saved them more times than he could count.

But Monique didn't want him to take the phone back.

 _She thinks Daniel's dangerous,_ Nick realized. _Why?_

* * *

 

Wandering away from the rest of the civilians, Daniel leaned against a handy wall. General Hammond had told him in no uncertain terms to keep his head down, stay put, and wait for the plane Sam was on. Apparently Teal'c was needed to keep one stubborn Colonel in bed where he belonged.

_Poor Teal'c._

Daniel took the opportunity to watch Tatopoulos' team coordinate with the rescue personnel. He'd been on the receiving end of Janet's staff often enough to appreciate the smooth rhythm H.E.A.T. helped establish, the quiet efficiency with which they separated the frightened from the hysterical from those bleeding over the concrete. _They're good_.

Apparently they'd also been lucky; the concourse had taken the only major hit. There were a multitude of minor injuries, but nothing the paramedics couldn't handle.

" _Ecoute_." A soft whisper in the night. _Listen_.

Daniel whirled - to meet a grip of steel.

Dark eyes probed him, searing as a staff blast. He felt something ruffle through his thoughts, fixing on alien worlds, a circle of shimmering silver-blue, the sun-topped pyramid that marked Earth-

"So." Monique's gaze was sad. "The ancient peril returns." Slim fingers pressed against his cheek. "Forget."

* * *

 

Major Sam Carter let out a relieved breath, spotting her target leaning against a wall. Dusty, water-stained, and a bit worn around the edges, but definitely in one piece. "Daniel?"

The archaeologist blinked, straightening with a shy smile. "Sam! Sorry. I guess – my mind was somewhere else..."

"Just as long as it's on the same planet," the astrophysicist joked, leading him toward the waiting jumpjet. The little jet was parked on one of the flatter stretches of asphalt, away from the few intact runways. "Wow. Godzilla really did a job on this place."

A frown creased Daniel's face. Puzzled brows drew down, as if chasing a thought; he shook his head in frustration. "Why didn't anyone ever _tell_ me there was an eighteen-story lizard running around Earth?"

"Daniel, you read the report on Site Omega..." Sam caught the look of confusion as they boarded. "You didn't read the report?"

"What report?"

Sam sighed. "Daniel, we have _got_ to do something about that black hole you call your office."

* * *

 

Waves sloshed against the _H.E.A.T. Seeker_ 's hull, catching shards of starlight. Soft snores echoed up from the hold; Elsie's quiet breaths, Randy's raspy rumble, the whistling sigh that meant Mendel was catching another cold. Perched on the rail, Monique Dupres gazed at the stars. _So. It begins again. After so long_...

Quiet footfall. "Something we should know about?"

Nick. Of course. "It is - personal."

The biologist nodded slowly. "If you ever want to talk..."

A dark brow slanted up. "I will, of course, know where you are."

Nick grinned. "Of course."

The agent listened to his footsteps retreat. Turned to the silent stars.

And smiled.


End file.
